


The Tooth Hurts

by Anonymous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adult Hermione Granger, Dentistry, Dentists, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, F/M, Good Draco Malfoy, POV Hermione Granger, Redeemed Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:53:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29165997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Even if her parents had no earthly idea who she was, working at Wilkins Family Dentistry in the heart of Edinburgh, Scotland, made Hermione so overwhelmingly happy. For two years now, she'd been a part-time receptionist working alongside her parents in their new lives and their new home. But today brought with it another surprise: a set of grey eyes Hermione hadn't seen in over eight years.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 16
Kudos: 26
Collections: Tag(line) You're It! Competition





	The Tooth Hurts

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [Tagline_Youre_It_Comp_2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Tagline_Youre_It_Comp_2020) collection. 



> **Prompt:** “The tooth hurts.” - (The Tooth Fairy)
> 
> I would like to thank my alpha who will remain nameless until after this work is revealed. I do not own anything related to the Harry Potter world and make no money from posting this story.

"Hermione, you don't have to stay, dear. Wendell is nearly finished with the last patient. You should head home before the snow."

"Oh, I don't mind, Monica," Hermione Granger waved off with a fleeting chuckle. "It's peaceful to walk home in the first snow of the year."

Hermione spun in the receptionist chair, and the smile on Helen Granger's, more commonly known as Monica Wilkins, face stretched a wider one across her own. Her mother's beauty had only refined with age, and Hermione found herself savoring the gleaming grin more and more as each day passed. But it had taken many years to not look into her mother's chocolate brown eyes and want to sob.

"Alright, alright. You work too hard, you know?" Monica chortled anew, a nostalgic sound of which Hermione would never grow tired. "Can I at least steep you a cuppa for the walk?"

Hermione nodded. "That would be lovely."

"Coming right up," Monica replied enthusiastically, tapping her fingers softly on the desk twice before she turned toward the hiss of her husband's dental drill.

Hermione watched her mother disappear toward the employee break room longingly. Even if her parents had no earthly idea who she was, working here at Wilkins Family Dentistry in the heart of Edinburgh, Scotland, made Hermione so overwhelmingly happy. For two years now, she'd been a part-time receptionist working alongside her parents. Some days she still tasted the tinge of bitterness on her tongue, but she'd take working alongside them unknown if it meant she got to be in their lives.

Erasing their memories had been the single most challenging task she'd ever had to endure. Not much surpassed the devastation of watching herself fade from the pictures on her mantle or the silence that lingered after her Obliviation spell took hold. Guilt had wracked her every step down their long drive, never waning throughout the war.

A war that had been awful but nowhere near as devastating as seeking out her parents on the eastern coast of Australia only to discover they hadn't been seen in over a year. Heartbroken. That was the only way Hermione could describe how she'd felt returning to England alone. For years she'd let the blame and hopelessness eat away at her soul. Five years she'd wandered in perpetual dread, working but never genuinely feeling. Waking but never truly sleeping. She'd hid her guilt and despair well enough, no one other than Harry conscious of her and her parents' misfortune.

It wasn't until he'd burst through her office door within the Department of Mysteries two years ago that she'd felt like she could finally breathe. She hadn't scanned three lines down the report showing their names on a flight to Edinburgh from South Africa before she'd shattered into relieved, elated sobs on the floor.

The bell above the door jingled before a waft of crisp, mid-winter chill sliced through Hermione's scrubs, tugging her from reverie. She shivered, teeth chattering as she softly greeted, "Welcome to Wilkins Family Den-"

However, the words caught in her throat as she glimpsed up from her final file of the day. The manilla folder slapped closed the exact moment as the door, leaving a silence that both Hermione and the office's newest patient both appeared to sense deep within their bones.

She didn't need to see the pale blond hair concealed under his emerald knit cap to discern precisely who stood before her. No, not in the slightest. The cutting jaw and even sharper nose, high cheekbones, and piercing astonished grey eyes painted a picture that Hermione hadn't witnessed since before her final N.E.W.T. over eight years before.

Draco Malfoy.

Merlin, this was not how she'd expected her day to end. Being bitten by Billy Fink? Not shocking. Getting shouted at over the phone for trying to schedule a follow-up? No surprises there, either. But watching a boy - no, a _man_ \- that many people thought to be dead looking otherwise healthy as he shivered in the office's doorway left Hermione flummoxed.

At least she wasn't the only one unsettled, it appeared. Malfoy glanced over his shoulder as if he wished to dash back through the door and escape. But he cringed suddenly, and with an inhale so intense that his chest visibly swelled, he strode forward, bringing with him a cold that wasn't in the air.

"Malfoy," Hermione breathed.

"Granger..." he grumbled.

They were silent for a while until he winced again, a soft whimper making Hermione swallow. "How... How can I help you?"

"One of my employees suggested I visit a dentist, so, here I am."

"Why did they suggest you visit?"

"My tooth hurts," he glowered, a slightly arrogant timbre trudging up memories of Hermione's past. "What else would I visit a dentist for?"

"There are several reasons someone would visit a dentist, Malfoy," Hermione huffed, trying to quell a temper she had long ago suppressed. "You could have come to get your teeth cleaned, whitened -"

"I get it," Malfoy scoffed, pointing toward the back of his jaw. "Here, it hurts here. My employee said it could be molars." A statement, but it sounded more like a question as he flinched again, his discomfort growing increasingly apparent.

"Well, I'm truly sorry, but the doctors are finishing up with one last patient before we all head home."

"You allow walk-ins, do you not? And are open until six? I phoned this morning -"

"Yes, we do, and are," Hermione huffed anew. "But with snow expected, our offices are closing early. So, if you'd like to schedule a future appointment, I can assist. Else-"

Shuffling from the hallway drew their attention to Monica, who emerged bearing two lidded cups and a bright grin. Hermione flushed slightly, knowing her mother likely assumed Malfoy was a caller coming to pick her up. It wouldn't be the first time her mother tried to set her up on a date with a man in the office.

Malfoy was glancing between the two women when she turned back, brows furrowed deeper than when he'd stood in the doorway. He studied them intently as Monica wandered closer, setting Hermione's cuppa on the desk.

"Hermione, dear, who's this?"

"Well, he's, uh -"

"Are you alright?" Monica questioned, expression finally slipping concerned. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I'm... I'm fine, mum." Embarrassment caught Hermione by surprise as the word registered. She turned hurriedly toward her mother, frantically offering, "I mean ma'am! Monica!"

"You haven't called me mum in ages, Hermione," Monica laughed. "Soooo, who is this?"

"Draco Malfoy, ma'am," Malfoy uttered, stretching out his hand. "I've come as a walk-in to have my teeth examined. Though, your assistant has informed me I've come too late. I'll return tomorrow."

"Nonsense," Monica waved off though Hermione could see the hint of disappointment in her eyes. "We're all still here, so what's one more mouth to fix. Right, Hermione?"

"Right… of course."

"But don't you wait around, you hear? Head home. That cat of yours is likely chomping at the bit for dinner." She turned to Malfoy then. "Mr. Malfoy, was it?" Draco nodded in response. "I'm Dr. Monica Wilkins, please, come this way."

"Thank you, Dr. Wilkins, for squeezing me in."

Monica's voice faded into the distance, questioning the man who had once made Hermione's life hell over what was ailing him. Although they left her alone, Hermione still felt like she couldn't breathe. She indeed felt like she'd seen a ghost and wasn't sure she hadn't.

* * *

"Oh, thank God you're here!" Melinda exclaimed, rising hastily from behind the desk as Hermione hurried through the office doorway.

"Of course, Melinda! I'm just sorry I couldn't come sooner."

"You're not late; you're a godsend, Hermione! Of course, Laura would choose today of all days to get sick," the head receptionist exclaimed, shaking her head. "Thank you for filling in! But I'm already late, so I need to run."

"Enjoy Ryan's ballet recital!"

"If he weren't so damn cute, I'd tell my sister to shove it," Melinda chuckled, yanking on her coat and rushing out the door.

Hermione sank into the still-warm chair, typing her credentials into the computer to ready herself. She wasn't meant to work Thursdays but filling in for Melinda brought the perk of seeing her parents for three extra hours. Moreover, Thursdays were operation days, so unless someone walked in, the lobby would remain relatively calm. So really, she couldn't complain.

Or so she thought. The computer had hardly booted before the sound of an approaching wheelchair caught Hermione's attention. Awareness that turned to humourous shock as Dr. Wendell Wilkins wheeled a dazed Draco Malfoy into her line of sight. Hermione had to stifle the laughter bubbling at the tip of her tongue as her father parked the chair and Malfoy's head lulled, a faint hum echoing from his gaze-stuff mouth.

"Hermione, hello. I'm glad you're here!"

"Hello, Dr. Wilkins," Hermione greeted with a grin, knowing her stickler of a father preferred to keep things professional.

"Granger?" Malfoy questioned, head lulling toward the desk with glassy eyes. When his sights settled dazedly on Hermione, his lips twitched as if he attempted to smile wider. "It's Granger!"

Wendell only laughed. "Indeed it is, Mr. Malfoy. Hermione, do you know this young man?"

"'Course she does!" Malfoy's muffled exclamation rang in response. "Went to school together! Hog -"

"Grove Academy!" Hermione cut in loudly. "Hargrove Academy. We attended school for a short time together, yes."

"Never heard of it! Mr. Malfoy is ready when you are, Hermione."

"Ready, sir?"

"Surely Melinda told you Mr. Malfoy's escort left for an emergency?" Wendell questioned, frowning slightly. "We were unable to find another escort, and we can't let him wander the streets alone after waking from anesthesia."

Hermione flinched, glancing between the dazed Malfoy heir and her father. "She must have forgotten, sir. I'm to walk him home?"

Malfoy slapped his hand down onto the wheelchair's arm suddenly, laughing, "Oh, Granger walks good!"

"That she does, Mr. Malfoy," Wendell chuckled. "Hermione, if you are uncomfortable, I can escort him myself."

"No. No, of course, I can manage," Hermione affirmed. "You've patients waiting."

"Granger called me a cockroach," Malfoy murmured, his head now thrown back, chin toward the ceiling, gauze pads slowly twitching in and out of his mouth.

Hermione only shrugged when Wendell's eyebrow lifted. "In my defense, he was a loathsome cockroach when he was younger."

Wendell barked a laugh. "Most of us men are, aren't we? You're sure?"

"Yes," Hermione nodded, smiling reassuringly.

"Excellent. Don't forget to leave these instructions for him to read later. He won't remember a thing you tell him now," Wendell beamed, handing Malfoy's file over the counter in exchange for his next patient. "Ms. Hamilton?"

One of the two women sitting in the waiting area stood, hesitantly shuffling toward Wendell, who led her away. In the silence, filled only with Malfoy's renewed, gargled humming, Hermione flipped open his file to copy down his address onto a slip of paper. He'd only filled in the street name - Glassmarket - but that wasn't uncommon.

Numerous walk-ins wandered through the Wilkins Family Dentistry doors, most of whom had no home of which to speak. The fact that she hadn't erased the essence of who her parents were when she'd altered their memories had been another weight lifted when they'd finally reunited. Her parents had always been kind, generous, helpful people wholly willing to help the less fortunate, at no cost, no questions asked.

"Granger, gonna retch," Malfoy sang - genuinely sang.

"That's a sure way to catch an infection, Malfoy. I suggest you don't."

Malfoy merely chuckled, foot now tapping along with the uneven bobbing of his head. If Hermione didn't know any better, she'd think this was an entirely different man. _This_ was not Draco Malfoy from years long past; it was impossible. He was humming, what Hermione now realized was bloody "I'm Too Sexy," sitting in a Muggle dentist office in a ragged jacket and worn jeans. She was convinced that if his eleven-year-old self could see himself now, he'd faint, or at least tell his father of his distaste.

Hermione laughed at the thought as she locked the computer and headed to slip on her coat. The hummed "I'm Too Sexy" didn't stop as she coaxed Malfoy from his wheelchair or when he slung an arm around her shoulder, leaning onto her heavily. She wanted to toss him off, yet she only rolled her eyes as they stepped out into the cold.

"Onward!" Malfoy exclaimed, dramatically pointing down the lane to the right - the _wrong_ way.

"Glassmarket is this way," Hermione laughed, pointing left.

Malfoy looked both ways, paused for a moment wholly still, and then shrugged with a goofy, gauze-filled grin. "Whatever, Granger. Take me home!"

Hermione could only laugh anew as she slipped her arm around his waist, guiding him toward where he claimed to live. It wasn't a far walk, maybe fifteen minutes at the most, but this would likely go down as the oddest fifteen minutes of her life: holding Draco Malfoy upright as he hummed "I'm Too Sexy," walking through Muggle streets of Edinburgh toward his apparently Muggle home.

He hummed halfway there, stopping as his movements began to slow. He paused only once to rest, gazing down at her with something unidentifiable in his eyes. His gaze lingered before he leaned in, placing his temple against the side of her head. A tingle ran up her spine, and she wanted to throw him off, if only so he didn't drool on her curls. But he sighed contentedly, drawing her back into step before she could.

It wasn't until the crossroads of Glassmarket that he finally spoke again.

"Granger... Why do'ya call your mum Monica?" and Hermione could swear she felt him nuzzle into her curls.

"How…" she started, heart racing with surprise at his question. "Why do you think she's my mother? I simply work for-"

"Liar. You said it," Draco murmured. "She looks like you, drinks tea the same way."

"How do you even know how either of us takes our tea?"

"Watched you in eighth year." He said it so freely, so nonchalantly, that it felt like he'd said it a hundred times before. "So?"

"Malfoy, that's... That's personal."

"Mmh, I'm personable," he snorted, and that was definitely nuzzling. "Pizzanable," he chuckled again.

"No, person - nevermind. Where's your flat?"

"S'there." He pointed lazily down the block.

Hermione groaned. "That is a coffee shop."

"S'mine," he shrugged. "I live upstairs."

"The flat is yours?"

"Hmm, that too," Malfoy grumbled, drifting closer into her. "I'm sleepy, Granger."

Hermione rolled her eyes but pulled him toward the coffee shop nonetheless - the _closed_ coffee shop. When she gave him an incredulous huff, he only fumbled keys from his pocket. Surprisingly, they worked.

It was a struggle to lock the door back and hold Malfoy up, his motor functions fading as he slipped toward sleep. When she asked where the door to his flat was, he lazily nodded toward the stairs at the shop's back—steep, narrow stairs. Pausing at the bottom to prepare herself, Hermione pulled him closer - and he _purred_ , nuzzling her again.

One step at a time. That's all Hermione could manage as she hauled his slowly limping form up the steps.

"Tooth hurts, Granger," Malfoy whined. "Was 'post to be better."

"The tooth is gone. It doesn't hurt; the gaping hole does," Hermione chuckled. "Come on; we're almost there."

Luckily, there was a small landing at the top of the stairs with enough wall to brace him against as she sifted through his keys until one clicked. Malfoy looked as if he'd fallen asleep standing when she turned back, but his eyes fluttered open lazily.

"Come on. Let's get you to bed."

He lifted his hands like a child asking to be held, and Hermione laughed aloud. It might be an odd day, but it might also be the best she'd ever had. Harry wasn't going to believe a moment of it.

His flat was surprisingly welcoming, well-worn furniture packing the sitting area before a _television_ and countless plants. Photos lined the hallway - several of him and his mother, of he and people Hermione had never seen, and one of him standing before his coffee shop wearing a grin and keys lofted.

His bedroom was even more inviting. Rich wood furniture, but there was a softness. And the bed was the center of it all. Hermione wasn't sure Malfoy's eyes were actually open as she hauled him across the room, dropping him into his bed. But he was awake enough that he wormed his way up to the pillows. And when Hermione turned away, a hand locked around her wrist.

An ungentle tug and Malfoy was pulling her down into his bed, though it wasn't as smooth as she was sure he'd planned it. Her face landed nearly in his armpit, half of her body hanging off the bed as she tried to pull herself up. But he wrapped an arm around the back of her head, holding her.

"No," he whined. "Cuddle."

"Malfoy," Hermione hissed, but her plea was muffled by the blankets smothering her. "Let me go!"

"Mum always cuddled when sick."

"I'm not your mum. Let me go!"

"No, not mum. Warmer... Smell better... Softer..." he whimpered, and his arm released, though his hand fell to her now wild curls. "Fluffy."

He stroked her head twice before his hand stilled, and her patience ran dry. Hermione jerked away, righting herself as Malfoy's palm slapped against his mattress.

One look at him nearly made Hermione burst into laughter. He'd fallen asleep patting her head, a swollen cheek resting against his shoulder. He was drooling slightly, and Hermione wished she had a camera to capture the moment. Pensieve replays would have to do.

Withdrawing her wand, she _Scrugified_ him, chuckling as she adjusted his head. A quick flick of her wand ensured it wouldn't slump; another covered him with his comforter. The flat was noiseless as she wandered back to the kitchen to leave his aftercare instructions and a few potions from her beaded bag.

One last glance did nothing to quell her confusion as she closed his flat door, securing it with her wand. Hermione wandered back toward Wilkins Family Dentistry, pausing at the coffee shop's door with a befuddled shake of her head. Harry definitely wasn't going to believe _any_ of this.

* * *

Two voices echoed from the hallway, one familiar and one that sent a chill down Hermione's spine, as she clicked into the office's scheduling software Monday afternoon. No bloody way! Hermione scrolled quickly, eyes falling to a name that hadn't been on there when she'd left Friday evening.

Pale blond hair wandered out of the hallway before Hermione had a chance to brace herself. Malfoy had a soft smile on his lips as Monica chattered on about nothing at his side. His sights flicked to the counter, and Hermione jumped, throwing open a nearby file and staring down into it intently.

"Fancy seeing you here, Granger," Malfoy mocked light-heartedly, striding up to the desk.

Hermione scoffed. "I work here."

"Thank you," he murmured suddenly. "For ensuring I got home safely."

"It was nothing," Hermione waved off, not meeting his eyes. "Just part of the job."

"I happen to know it's not. My escort bailed, and you were forced to walk me home. Or so I've been told."

"You don't remember it then," Hermione chuckled, the phrase "pizzanable" echoing in her mind.

"I don't even remember getting here that day. But you cared for me well, apparently. Dr. Wilkins says she hasn't seen a molar removal heal so well."

"As I said: part of the job."

"Allow me to take you to dinner as thanks," Draco offered.

Hermione was stunned for a moment, whether by the sincerity in his voice or the look on his face when she glanced up, she wasn't sure. "That's… not necessary."

"Nonsense!" Monica boomed, appearing at the counter with a bright grin. "You went above and beyond that day, Hermione. I say if Mr. Malfoy would like to take you out as thanks, that would be excellent repayment."

"Mu... Monica, that, I -" Hermione stammered. Merlin, this woman and always trying to set her up on dates!

"Is that a yes?" Malfoy sought with an infuriating smirk.

"I'm…" Hermione sputtered, glancing between Malfoy and her mother's eager grin. "I'm not sure about dinner."

"Then coffee. Allow me to at least treat you to coffee."

"You own a coffee shop…"

"Then you know it will be delicious." Another smirk, this one bringing an odd sensation.

She stalled, staring into his soft expression. "Fine. Coffee. _Before_ my shift on Wednesday."

"I'll pick you up from here?"

"I know where the shop is. I'll be there at one o'clock."

He smirked again, though this one felt more like a genuine half-smile. "I'll see you then."

Two finger taps against the desk, and in a flash of blond and black, he was gone, leaving Monica's giddy chuckle filling the silence.

* * *

The coffee shop was undoubtedly _not_ closed when Hermione wandered through the door on Wednesday afternoon. Several people stood in line, almost all the tables full with chatting friends or silent readers.

Malfoy stood behind the counter taking an order and shouting it to the several baristas behind him. In an _apron_. An apron that was well worn and covered in buttons and coffee filth. Add another notch to Hermione's "this couldn't get any weirder" belt.

But it did when he glanced up, and a grin spread across his face. A young barista took his place as he removed his apron and rounded the counter, rushing toward Hermione.

"Hey, sorry. Busier time of the day," he huffed. "I saved us a table."

"I could have come another time. I don't want to inte-"

He shrugged. "Jessie and the team can manage. Come on."

He plucked two cups from the crowded service counter as they stepped past, moving to a small table next to the front window. Malfoy pulled out her chair before sinking into his own, nodding for her to join when she hesitated.

With an inhale she sat, not bothering to remove her coat or gloves. "So… hi."

"Hello, Granger," he chuckled, sliding a cup across the table. "Having a nice week?"

"I've had… less odd."

Another genuine smile, followed by boisterous laughter. "I don't doubt it."

"Well... how did you end up here?" Hermione sought, waving her hand toward the room at large.

"Right into it. Wouldn't expect anything less from the Golden Girl." A smirk, hidden only by the coffee cup he pulled to his lips.

"I've got to be at work in an hour," she shrugged, pulling her own cup to her lips - which wasn't coffee at all, but tea, just how she liked it.

He must have noticed her astonishment because his smirk deepened. "The old owner was the only person to offer me a job when I first moved here. He passed a few years back, I bought the place and kept everything the same. Moved in upstairs."

"But why _here_? How did you end up in Edinburgh?"

"It was…" he started, face falling flat as he glanced out the window. " _That_ world was difficult. The Wizengamot found my crimes not punishable by Azkaban but not my peers… After finishing Hogwarts, I was sentenced to live one year in the Muggle world. I could return, but…"

"You didn't."

He nodded, gaze shifting back. "I didn't. I stayed in one of our properties here. And when the year was up… I didn't have anything to go home to."

Hermione could see the sadness in his eyes. She remembered the article announcing Narcissa's death shortly after eighth year.

"I'm sorry about your mum."

"Thanks." Clipped, but not vicious. Mostly sad. "So, tell me. Why do your parents not have the same last name as you?"

"That's… pizzanable." Confusion graced his sharp features, and Hermione openly laughed. "Personal. It's personal."

"I've shared a wealth of personal information here already, Granger. I think you can give me this."

Hermione sighed, looking at the cup warming her gloved hands. "I… Obliviated them… during the war. Made them believe they were different people - Monica and Wendell Wilkins."

"Fuck…" was his only whispered response. "That's…"

"Dreadful... After the war, I went to Australia to reverse the spell, but… we couldn't find them. I was so sure they'd died, that I had been the reason for their deaths.

It was worse than the war. Worse than being…" Hermione trailed off, but his eyes flicked to her left arm and back, and she knew he understood.

"Eventually, they showed up on a flight out of South Africa. Apparently, my suggestion to move to Australia wasn't enough to keep them there. They went on a mission trip. And when they were finished, they moved here.

I went to their dental practice's open house, and it was clear their memories hadn't returned. Mum looked me right in the eyes, and I could tell she didn't know who I was. I didn't even introduce myself."

"How'd you manage to get a job there?"

"Harry," Hermione smiled softly. "I drafted a CV but never sent it. He mailed it behind my back."

"I always thought Potter was devious enough to be a Slytherin."

"And caring enough to be a Puff," Hermione chuckled. "Mum hired me on the spot, and I rented a cottage outside of town."

"Did you ever try to reverse the spell?"

"I wasn't able to manage… I only had enough savings to contract one Healer, and they weren't able to manage either."

"You're Hermione Granger. That should have held some weight, no?"

"Not everyone appreciates what we did…"

"Hmm," he mused, but they lingered in silence for a while, both avoiding eye contact. "You and Potter are close, then." A statement and a question.

Hermione snickered, thankful for the redirection. "We've always been close."

"I meant _close_."

She nearly choked on the tea she'd just sipped. "No. Harry is _close_ with Theo. Who says hello and that he's immensely upset with you."

Draco's head snapped back toward her, furrowed brows cutting her laughter short. "You told them?"

"I… yes," she stammered at the concern in his gaze. "I did. I'm sorry… I did think -"

"...It's fine, Granger."

The timer on Hermione's watch chimed at that moment, spooking her. "I suppose I've got to get to work."

"Right, well -"

"Thank you, Malfoy. This was… surprisingly pleasant."

Malfoy barked a laugh, a real smile crossing his lips. "That's better than nothing. And thank you again for caring for me."

"And again, part of the job," Hermione smirked, standing and nodding in parting.

But she wasn't four steps away from the table when his soft voice carried in the air. "Hey, Hermione."

That shouldn't have made her breath catch, but it did. With furrowed brows, she turned back toward the blond. Malfoy wore a serious, almost grim, expression as he stood.

"I… I'm sorry."

Sincerity. That was the only tone Hermione could hear in the barely audible words. The only emotion she could see shining in his eyes as he stepped a bit closer, towering over her.

"I forgive you, Draco."

The corners of his lips twitched, but he merely nodded in response. Hermione turned, the bell over the door chiming as she left his coffee shop confused, breathless, and wholly intrigued.

* * *

_Bang, bang, bang._

Who the bloody _fuck_?! It was six in the morning. On a Saturday! And someone had been pounding relentlessly on her door for the last thirty seconds. Hermione would kill Ginny if she'd come again trying to drag her to a bloody Quidditch match.

The brunette witch bounded down her cottage's hallway, clad in slippers, her comfiest robe, and a red face of rage. Throwing open the door was easy, but breathing when her sights settled on her visitors was nearly impossible.

"Hermione... My little dove."

 _My dove_. No one called her that. No one… _expect_ her mother.

Everything moved like a whirlwind of halted time and haste then. The tears that fell from Hermione and her mother's eyes. The relieved look on her father's face that settled in Hermione's soul. The feeling of their arms engulfing her in a hug so crushing she couldn't breathe, but she wanted to. She wanted to take in the smell of her mother's hair - cinnamon and lavender. The scent of her father's cologne - mahogany and teakwood.

"Ha… how? How?"

"I don't know, dove. Mr. Malfoy -"

"What?" Hermione interrupted, pulling back wide-eyed.

"Mr. Malfoy. He showed up this morning and… and it was like everything was clear. He drove us right here."

Hermione saw it then over her mother's shoulder, the blond hair in her driveway shining in the early morning sun. He was already halfway to his car with his hands in his pockets, shoulders slumped, feet shuffling.

"Mum, dad… I… I'll be right back."

She hadn't realized they'd collapsed onto the floor, but she hauled herself up, bolting out her doorway, shouting, "Draco!"

He froze mid-step, turning with a somber expression but wide eyes as Hermione raced toward him, halting with unsteady, panted breaths.

"You… I… I don't… I can't…" She couldn't find any words to truly express how she felt other than, "Thank you."

He smirked half-heartedly, murmuring, "Part of the job."

A watery laugh slipped past her lips, and before she truly knew what she was doing, Hermione pushed onto her toes, dropped her hands onto his chest, and pressed her lips to the corner of Draco's mouth.

His eyes were wide, lips parted in awe as she lowered back onto the soles of her slippers.

"I happen to know it's not. Dinner. Next week. Attendance is mandatory."

And Hermione left Draco there, wearing a broad grin stretching from ear to ear, as she hurried back into her _parents_ ' embrace.


End file.
